tv FOX 45 Late Edition FOX September 20, 2013 11:00pm-11:35pm EDT
with mine own tongue deny my sacred state, with mine own breath release all duty's rites: all pomp and majesty i do forswear; make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved, and thou with all pleased, that hath all achieved! long mayst thou live in richard's seat to sit, and soon lie richard in an earthy pit! god save king harry,
unkinged richard says, and send him many years of sunshine days! what more remains? northumberland: no more, but that you read over these accusations and grievous crimes committed by yourself and your followers against the state and profit of this land; that, by confessing them, the souls of men may deem you worthily deposed. must i do so? and must i ravel out my weaved-up folly? gentle northumberland,
if thy offences were upon record, would it not shame thee in so fair a troop to read a lecture of them? if thou wouldst, there shouldst thou find one heinous article, containing the deposing of a king. nay, all of you that stand and look upon, whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, though some of you with pilate wash your hands showing an outward pity; yet you pilates have here delivered me to my sour cross, and water cannot wash away your sin. my lord, dispatch. read o'er these articles. mine eyes are full of tears, i cannot see: and yet salt water blinds them not so much but they can see a sort of traitors here.
nay, if i turn mine eyes upon myself, i find myself a traitor with the rest... for i have given here my soul's consent to undeck the pompous body of a king; made glory base and sovereignty a slave, proud majesty a subject, state a peasant. my lord -- no lord of thine, thou haught insulting man... nor no man's lord; i have no name, no title, no, not that name was given me at the font, but 'tis usurped: alack the heavy day, that i have worn so many winters out, and know not now what name to call myself! o that i were a mockery king of snow, standing before the sun of bolingbroke,
to melt myself away in water-drops! good king, great king, and yet not greatly good, and if my word be sterling yet in england, let it command a mirror hither straight, that it may show me what a face i have, since it is bankrupt of his majesty. go some of you and fetch a looking-glass. northumberland: read o'er this paper while the glass doth come. richard: fiend, thou torment'st me ere i come to hell! urge it no more, my lord northumberland. the commons will not be satisfied. they shall be satisfied: i'll read enough, when i do see the very book indeed where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.
give me the glass, and therein will i read. no deeper wrinkles yet? hath sorrow struck so many blows upon this face of mine, and made no deeper wounds? o flattering glass, thou dost beguile me! was this face the face that every day under his household roof did keep ten thousand men? was this the face that, like the sun, did make beholders wink?
was this the face that faced so many follies, and was at last out-faced by bolingbroke? a brittle glory shineth in this face -- as brittle as the glory is the face! for there it is, cracked in a hundred shivers. mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, how soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face. the shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed the shadow of your face. say that again. the shadow of my sorrow! ha!
let's see: it is very true, my grief lies all within; and these external manners of laments are merely shadows to the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortured soul; there lies the substance... and i thank thee, king, for thy great bounty, that not only givest me cause to wail but teachest me the way how to lament the cause. i'll beg one boon, and then be gone and trouble you no more. shall i obtain it? name it, fair coin. "fair cousin"? i am greater than a king: for when i was a king, my flatterers were then but subjects; being now a subject, i have a king here to my flatterer.
being so great, i have no need to beg. yet ask. and shall i have? you shall. then give me leave to go. whither? whither you will, so i were from your sights. go, some of you convey him to the tower. o, good! convey? conveyers are you all, that rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. [door opens] on wednesday next we solemnly set down our coronation.
in nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti. you holy clergymen, is there no plot to rid the realm of this pernicious blot? i see your brows are full of discontent, your hearts of sorrow and your eyes of tears: come home with me to supper; and i'll lay a plot shall show us all a merry day. but soft, but see, or rather do not see, my fair rose wither.
richard: join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, to make my end too sudden: learn, good soul, to think our former state a happy dream; from which awaked, the truth of what we are shows us but this: i am sworn brother, sweet, to grim necessity, and he and i shall keep a league till death. what, has my richard both in shape and mind transformed and weakened? hath bolingbroke deposed thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? richard: good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for france: think i am dead and that even here though takest, as from my death-bed, thy last living leave. learn in winter's tedious nights sit by the fire with good old folks and let them tell thee tales of woeful ages long ago betid;
and ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs, tell thou the lamentable tale of me and send the hearers weeping to their beds. my lord, you must straight to the tower. and, madam, there is orders ta'en for you; with all swift speed you must away to france. northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal the mounting bolingbroke ascends my throne, the time shall not be many hours of age more than it is ere foul sin gathering head shalt break into corruption: thou shalt think, though he divide the realm and give thee half, it is too little, helping him to all; and he shall think that thou, which know'st the way to plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, being ne'er so little urged,
another way to pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. my guilt be on my head, and there an end. take leave and part. richard: doubly divorced! bad men, you violate a twofold marriage, 'twixt my crown and me, and then betwixt me and my married wife. let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me. and yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.
[men shouting] duchess of york: my lord... you told me you would tell the rest? then, as i said, the duke, great bolingbroke, mounted upon a hot and fiery steed with slow but stately pace kept on his course, whilst all tongues cried "god save thee, bolingbroke!" you would have thought the very windows spake, so many greedy looks of young and old through casements darted their desiring eyes upon his visage.
duchess: alack, poor richard! where was he the whilst? as in a theatre, the eyes of men, after a well-graced actor leaves the stage, are idly bent on him who enters next, thinking his prattle to be tedious; even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes did scowl on gentle richard. no man cried "god save him!" but dust was thrown upon his sacred head: which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, that had not god, for some strong purpose, steeled the hearts of men, they must perforce have melted...
but heaven hath a hand in these events, and to bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now. my son, aumerle. what news from oxford? jousts and triumphs? for aught i know, my lord. you will be there, i know. if god prevent not, i purpose so. what seal is that? yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. my lord, 'tis nothing. no matter, then, who see it; i will be satisfied; let me see the writing. aumerle: i do beseech your grace to pardon me: it is a matter of small consequence, which for some reasons i would not have seen. york: which for some reasons, sir, i mean to see. i fear -- what should you fear?
boy, let me see the writing. i do beseech you, pardon me; i may not show it. i will be satisfied; let me see it, i say. it's treason! foul treason! -what is the matter, my lord? -ho! who's within there? -i my lord. -saddle my horse! give me my boots i say! duchess: what is the matter? -peace, foolish woman! -i will not peace. -what is the matter, aumerle? -good mother, be content; it is no more than my poor life must answer. thy life answer! i will unto the king. aumerle? poor boy, thou art amazed. york: give me my boots, i say. why, york, what wilt thou do? wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
have we more sons? or are we like to have? york: a dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, and interchangeably set down their hands, to kill the new-crowned king. duchess: he shall be none; we'll keep him here: then what is that to him? were he twenty times my son, i would impeach him. hadst thou groan'd for him as i have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful. but now i know thy mind; thou dost suspect that i have been disloyal to thy bed and that he is a bastard, not thy son: sweet york, sweet husband, be not of that mind: he is as like thee as a man may be! make way! after, aumerle! mount thee upon his horse; spur post, and get before him to the king, and beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. i'll not be long behind; away, be gone!
who comes here? what means our cousin that he stares and looks so wildly? god save your grace! i do beseech your majesty, to have some conference with your grace alone. withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. then give me leave that i may turn the key, that no man enter till my tale be done. have thy desire.
[pounding on door] york: my liege, beware; thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. villain, i'll make thee safe. stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear. york: my liege! open the door! or i will break it open. what is the matter, uncle? speak! york: peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know the treason that my haste forbid me show. aumerle: i do repent me; read not my name there my heart was not confederate with my hand. it was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. i tore it from the traitor's bosom, king; fear, and not love, begets his penitence. o heinous, strong and bold conspiracy!
o loyal father of a treacherous son! thy overflow of good converts to bad, and thy abundant goodness shall excuse this deadly blot in thy digressing son. thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, the traitor lives, the true man's put to death. [knocking at door] duchess: what ho, my liege! for god's sake, let me in! henry: what shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry? duchess: a woman. and thy aunt, great king; 'tis i. open the door. i beggar begs that never begged before. our scene is altered from a serious thing, and now changed to "the beggar and the king." [knocking] my dangerous cousin, let your mother in: i know she is come to pray for your foul sin. o king, believe not this hard-hearted man!
love loving not itself none other can. york: thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here? shall thy old dugs another traitor rear? sweet york, be patient. hear me, gentle liege. -rise up, good aunt! -duchess: not yet, i thee beseech: for ever will i walk upon my knees, until thou bid me joy, by pardoning my transgressing boy. aumerle: unto my mother's prayers i bend my knee. york: against them both my true joints bended be. i'll mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! duchess: pleads he in earnest? look upon his face; his eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; his words come from his mouth, ours from our breast. -good aunt, stand up. -nay, do not say, "stand up"; say, "pardon" first, and afterwards "stand up." i never long'd to hear a word till now; say "pardon," king; let pity teach thee how:
the word is short, but not so short as sweet; no word like "pardon" for kings' mouths so meet. good aunt, stand up. i do not sue to stand; pardon is all the suit i have in hand. i pardon him, as god shall pardon me. o happy vantage of a kneeling knee! yet am i sick with fear: speak it again. with all my heart i pardon him. a god on earth thou art! but for our trusty bishop and the abbot, with all the rest of that consorted crew... destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.
"have i no friend will rid me of this living fear?" was it not so? quote thee. he spake it twice, and urged it twice together, did he not? he did. and speaking it, he wistly looked on thee, and who should say, "i would thou wert the man that would divorce this terror from my heart"; meaning the king in the tower. come, let's go: we are the king's friends, and will rid his foe.
richard: i have been studying how i may compare this prison where i live unto the world: and for because the world is populous and here is not a creature but myself, i cannot do it; yet i'll hammer it out. my brain i'll prove the female to my soul, my soul the father; and these two beget a generation of still-breeding thoughts, and these same thoughts people this little world, thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails may tear a passage through the flinty ribs of this hard world,
my ragged prison walls, and, for they cannot, die in their own pride. thoughts tending to content flatter themselves that they are not the first of fortune's slaves, nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame, that many have and others must sit there; and in this thought they find a kind of ease, bearing their own misfortune on the back of such as have before endured the like. thus play i in one person many people,
and none contented: sometimes am i king; then treasons make me wish myself a beggar, and so i am: then crushing penury persuades me i was better when a king; then am i kinged again and by and by think that i am unkinged by bolingbroke, and straight am nothing: but whate'er i be, nor i nor any man that but man is with nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased with being nothing. [faint music in distance]
and now doth time waste me. this music mads me; let it sound no more; for though it have holp madmen to their wits, in me it seems it will make wise men mad. yet blessing on his heart that gives it me! for 'tis a sign of love; and love to richard is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. [door opens] groom: hail, royal prince!